


Christmas Eve will find me where the love light gleams

by ashippersheart



Category: The Walking Dead (TV), The Walking Dead - All Media Types
Genre: Christmas Fluff, F/M, Mild Language
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-31
Updated: 2014-12-31
Packaged: 2018-03-04 14:29:22
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,341
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3071579
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ashippersheart/pseuds/ashippersheart
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“I don’t want much,” she said, placing her hand on his chest. “I have you.”</p><p>A set of Christmas drabbles written for silver-89 for the Caryl Christmas Secret Santa exchange on Tumblr.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Christmas Eve will find me where the love light gleams

**Author's Note:**

> I figured I should probably post these here before 2015. These were an exercise in brevity as I'm very verbose. Seriously. You can't shut me up. Anyway, Happy New Year!!
> 
> Title is taken from the Christmas classic "I'll Be Home for Christmas".

**1.**

That first winter had been unseasonably cold, and it seemed like everywhere they went had already been picked clean leaving only threadbare clothes behind in the abandoned houses.

When they chanced upon the storage facility, it seemed like their luck was changing. After clearing it of walkers, everyone had busied themselves searching for supplies. Even Lori, heavily pregnant, had sat on a bench and rummaged through forgotten suitcases.  

Carol was beside herself with giddiness when she found an old chest piled high with sweaters. They were all Christmas themed and made of thick soft wool, not the scratchy kind that had always made Sophia break out in hives. There were excited squeals all around when she passed them out. Well, almost all around. Daryl was not too pleased.

"Ain’t no way you gettin’ me to wear that." He stared at the sweater in Carol’s hands. It was green and the picture of Santa Clause on the front of it wasn’t passing out presents or riding on a sleigh. It was sitting down. On a toilet. Pants pulled down and tissue in his hands.  

"What? Not your style? Screams Daryl Dixon to me.” She waved it at him.

He snorted. “Stop.”

“It’s going to get colder tonight.” She turned to model her sweater for him. It was red and on the front, Santa Clause and Mrs. Clause were kissing underneath the mistletoe. “Come on. It’s funny. Ugly Christmas sweaters are all the rage in apocalyptic fashion.”

"I ain’t wearing that." He shook his head, turning away to walk towards Rick.

Later that night, when the temperature dropped even lower, Carol felt Daryl shivering next to her buried in his bedroll. She grabbed the sweater from earlier. “Daryl, you’re shivering. Put this on.”

He eyed her and the sweater in her hands. With a sigh, he sat up and grabbed it from her. “Better not hear a damn peep from you.” He slipped the sweater on over his shirt and looked flatly back at her.

“No peep from me. I’m just glad you’ll be warm.” She said this softly, her eyes downcast, before lying back down and turning her back to him. “Good night,” she whispered.

The next winter, after leaving Grady, the group found themselves holed up in an old house. Carol lay on the bed in the room she and Daryl had claimed, her eyes staring at the ceiling. She hadn’t been able to fall asleep, the emptiness of the bed weighing on her.

As the morning light started to peek through the curtains, the door opened and Daryl walked in, his watch over, wearing a red sweater. “Found us somethin’ in one of the closets.” He tossed another red sweater at her. His face was pink and he was doing his best to avoid looking at her directly. “This one’s for you.”

She held the sweater out in front of her and grinned. It had a giant reindeer head on it. She glanced back at him, curious.

“Gonna get colder soon.” He shrugged, turning around to put down his crossbow and gun.

The sight that greeted her had her barking out in laughter. On the back of Daryl’s sweater was the butt of a reindeer. She clutched at her side, alternately laughing and wincing at the injuries that were still healing.

Daryl sat at the edge of the bed, his lips quirked into a half smile. His voice was low. “Ain’t heard you laugh like that since the prison.”

She sobered up and returned a soft smile. “Thank you.”

 

**2.**

It was getting colder and even though no one could pinpoint what the exact date was, Carol knew it would be Christmas soon. The previous year, they had been surviving on the road and it didn’t leave much time to reminisce. This year, though, they were settled in the prison and there were some days when Carol felt like the memories were engulfing her.

Christmas had been Sophia’s favorite holiday. Even though Ed didn’t care for it much, Carol had always saved her housekeeping allowance throughout the year to make sure she could do the holiday right. A small, modest tree, stockings by the fireplace, and twinkling lights in the windows. Every Christmas morning, Carol would tiptoe into Sophia’s room and wake her up so that they could watch  _The Wizard of Oz_ and drink hot chocolate before Ed’s family came over.

There was a melancholy settled in her, never fully abating, and Carol knew people were starting to notice that something wasn’t right. Especially Daryl. He had taken to sitting with her each time she had watch in the guard tower and always lingered a moment too long at her cell door when he said good night. He always looked like he had something to say, but wasn’t sure how to word it.

One night, when Carol was on watch, Daryl didn’t show up like he normally did. She sat by herself, her eyes darting to the door every so often. It was unspoken between them - him joining her on watch. They never mentioned it during the day, and even when they were there in the guard tower, they were usually quiet, content to just sit side by side in companionable silence.

When she finally heard the door click open and Daryl’s figure came into view, she let out a breath she didn’t even know she had been holding. In one hand, he held a bag, and in the other, he had a thermos.

“What’s that?”

“Somethin’ for us to do tonight.” He handed the bag to her.

She peered inside and found the portable DVD player Glenn had brought back a few weeks ago and a DVD of  _The Wizard of Oz_. She thumbed the cover and smiled. “Where’d you find this?”

“Been lookin’ out for this movie. Michonne found it and brought it back for me today.”

She glanced at him. “Why this one?”

“I ain’t seen it before. I thought -” He shrugged. “It’s stupid.”

“No, it’s not. I want to.” There was something else behind his words, but she let it go, choosing instead to quirk her head at the thermos. “And that?”

“A little somethin’ I been savin’ for a special occasion.”

Curious, she reached out for the thermos and waved it in her hand. “And tonight is…?”

He gestured at the space between them. “Movie night.”

They turned the movie on and settled into a silence, passing the thermos between them. It was hot chocolate, and Daryl had spiced it up with a little rum.

By the time the credits rolled, they had finished off the thermos and Carol felt the rum in her system. It had been so long since she had any alcohol and she was sure Daryl was feeling it too.

“That was Sophia’s favorite movie. We used to curl up on the couch every Christmas morning with hot chocolate to watch it.” She leaned back on the wall, her legs crossed under her, and smiled softly. “Those are good memories. How did you know?”

He fidgeted with the bolt in his hands. “Heard you and Sophia talkin’ about it at the quarry.”

“And you remembered? We barely spoke a word to each other back then.”

Shrugging, he muttered, “I remember everythin’ about you.”

Carol swelled with emotion and tears threatened to sting her eyes. There were so many words she wanted to say, but she recognized that Daryl had opened up enough for one night. She took a deep breath, blinking back her tears, and let the words go.

By the time watch was over, Carol found herself curled up on Daryl’s side, her head resting on his shoulder.

It would become her favorite night at the prison.  

 

**3.**

They hadn’t talked the entire morning. After their earlier argument, Carol had busied herself taking inventory of their food and supplies and Daryl had holed himself up in the garage of the house they were staying in to tune up the old truck. They both needed their space to cool off.

"Carol?"

She looked up from the dining table where she had laid out all their first aid supplies and canned foods. Judith was standing by the doorway, her hands behind her back with an utter look of misery on her face.

"What’s the matter, Jude?"

"Is Daryl mad at me?” Her voice was quiet, a stark difference from her usual rambunctiousness.

“Why would you think that?”

Judith bit her lip. “I went to show him this.”

She brought her hands from behind her back and shoved something at Carol. It was a piece of paper with drawings on it. An original Judith Grimes masterpiece. “I made one for everyone and this one is his and I wanted to show him. But he just said ‘Ain’t got time for this.’ “

Carol bit down on the inside of her cheek to keep from laughing at Judith’s imitation of Daryl’s gruff drawl. “Oh, sweetie. Daryl’s not mad at you.” She patted the chair next to her and motioned for Judith to sit. “Come here. Show me your drawing.”

“It’s a Christmas picture,” Judith explained. “Tara’s been teaching me all about Christmas. About the tree and decorations and presents. She thinks it’s gonna be Christmas soon and Daddy said if we stay at this house for a while, we could get a tree.” She pointed at the picture. “See this is me and I’m putting the star on the tree. This is you and this is Daryl.”

Carol squinted. The two figures Judith was pointing at were facing each other with their mouths touching.

"You’re kissing. Cause you’s guys are always doing that. And that’s mistletoe. Tara told me about it. She said if you stand under mistletoe with someone, you have to kiss them." Judith’s face contorted into a look that said  _eww_.

Carol hid her smile. “You look disgusted.”

"Cause it  _is_  disgusting. Carl told me you can catch cooties. I don’t wanna get sick.”

"Carl’s just teasing."

“Maybe.” Judith tilted her head to the side, looking like she didn’t believe Carol. “Do you get cooties from Daryl?”

Carol snorted. “No, I don’t.”

“Did you give him the cooties? Is that why he’s mad?”

“No, that’s not why he’s mad.” Carol bit out a laugh. “You know how sometimes you and Carl fight? But then afterwards, you make up and then everything’s okay again.”

Judith nodded and looked contemplative for a moment. “So you and Daryl had a fight? And now you’re not kissing anymore? Okay I have to go now.” She jumped up from her chair and scurried off, her attention span apparently too short to continue the conversation anymore.

An hour later, Judith came back and grabbed Carol’s hand, dragging her towards the front of the house. “Come on. I have something to show you.”

Daryl was standing under the arched entryway to the living area. He was staring, a curious look on his face, at the top of the arch where a thing - there was no other way to put it - of red and green construction paper was taped. “Jude, if you want dinner tonight, you better speed up whatever you got goin’ on here.”  

“Okay,  _Daryl_.” Judith deposited Carol in front of him. “Now kiss and make up.”

He shot a look of annoyance at her. “What?”

“You’re under mistletoe. You have to kiss. So you can’t be mad at each other anymore,” Judith said, putting her hands on her hip.

Carol glanced down at her, amused. “Jude, this is very sweet -”

“We can work this out on our own,” Daryl growled.

Judith shook her head. “Nuh-uh. Daddy says you’re a stubborn ass. And that means it could be forever until you stop being mad.”

Carol looked back at him, smacking her lips to stop the laughter threatening to bark out. “So what do you say? Kiss and make up?”

He looked from Carol to the little girl next to them, smiling proudly at herself, and sighed. “Kiss and make up,” he muttered.

She leaned over, pressing her lips to his. “I’m sorry, stubborn ass.”

 

**4.**

Their first winter at the safe zone, Carol kept pinching herself to make sure she wasn’t dreaming. After all those years on the road, she barely knew what to do with herself in a proper house with a working kitchen and oven.

One of the founders of the safe zone had kept careful track of the days passed and was reasonably sure when Christmas was nearing. And as the days got colder and the holiday came closer, Carol found herself feeling wistful.The thing about having a proper house was that it reminded you of the days before the world had gone to shit. The living room felt empty without the presence of a tree decorated with her favorite ornaments and the fireplace was downright miserable without stockings hanging on it.

Daryl could sense something was wrong, but each time he asked, Carol only smiled softly and said she was fine. She hadn’t been the same since their reunion outside of Terminus. At her core, she was still  _his_ Carol, but every so often, something would trigger her and she would withdraw into herself for a few days. Although he pretty much knew what her triggers were, he never stopped figuring out ways to draw her back out.

So when he happened upon one of those year-round Christmas shops at a nearby town, he knew he had hit pay dirt. He waited until Carol was out all day on a run for medical supplies and with help from a few members of his family, he had everything set up by the time she returned.

He was standing by the fireplace when the door opened.

“Daryl?” Carol called out, her footsteps light on the hardwood floor. She poked her head around the doorway. “Where are you?”

“Welcome home,” he grunted through a half-smile.

“Oh my -.” She smiled the first true smile he had seen in a few days. “What happened in here?”

“I decorated.”

There was a big tree next to the sofa with twinkling lights wrapped around it. On the top, there was a giant red bow and silver tinsel had been looped around the branches. On the fireplace, there were two stockings with their names stitched on it. And around the room, garland had been hung from the ceiling so that it draped the walls.

“How did you manage this?”

He shrugged. “That’s my secret.”

Shaking her head, Carol snaked her arms around him and stood up to kiss him on the cheeks. “Thank you. It looks beautiful in here.”

He kissed her forehead. “We gotta put the ornaments on the tree.”

“We have ornaments?” she asked, incredulous.

“Yeah.” He led her to the tree and grabbed for a bag below it. “Here ya go. I didn’t know what you’d like, so Tara helped me. She said these were the best.”

They busied themselves placing the ornaments on the tree, all the while humming Christmas carols - or Carol did anyway.

“Aren’t these lights a big drain on the generator?” Carol asked between songs.

“Nah. It’s a backup battery. Eugene rigged it. Can’t leave it on all the time though.”

When they stepped back to admire their work, Carol put her head on Daryl’s shoulder and he wrapped his arms around hers. “It’s beautiful.” She sighed. “Sophia would’ve loved it.”

Sensing her change in mood, he grabbed for another bag and handed it to her. Inside were three glass ornaments shaped like angels. He had etched a single letter on each one. _S. M. L_.

Her hands flew to cover her mouth and Daryl could see tears pooling in the corner of her eyes. “Daryl, I -”

“Shh, it’s okay.” He guided her towards the tree and hand in hand, they hung each angel up together.

“You’re amazing,” she said, her voice quiet.

The tips of his ears reddened. “Nah. I’m just a redneck.”

She whispered against his lips. “You’re the best man I know.”

 

**5.**

The safe zone was a hubbub of holiday activity their second Christmas there.

In the morning, they hooked up the generator to the DVD player and projection screen and put on a showing of  _The Wizard of Oz_  in the community center. They had invited all the kids over, and it became a mad house. Carol didn’t sit down once, circulating around the crowd to pass out hot chocolate and break up little quibbles.

At night, they hosted a big dinner in the community center, and everyone from the safe zone showed up. Cooking for that many people was no laughing matter, and if Carol never has to peel another potato again, it would still be too soon.

“I don’t know why I let you talk me into this,” Carol said, stretching out on their sofa that night.  

Daryl’s face was a mask of  _don't blame this on me_. “Ain’t talk you into nothin’. You never listen to me.” His hands wandered to her shoulders, fingers kneading the aching muscles.  

She snorted. “That’s true.”

“You want someone to blame? Blame Tara. You listen to her more than me.”

“That’s true too.” She shrugged. “I have a soft spot for her.”

Daryl scooted closer and nuzzled her neck, whispering, “You got one for me too?”  

Humming, she tipped her head back allowing him more access. “Usually. But not today.” She stayed in his embrace for a few more seconds and pulled away. “I’m tired.”

He pouted, and Carol laughed. “Daryl Dixon pouting is not something I will ever get over.” As she stood up, she stripped her shirt off. “But if you’d like to take a shower with me…”

He jumped up and started pulling his clothes off. “Ya killing me.”

She headed towards the bathroom, swinging her hips with emphasis, and threw over her shoulder, “Story of our lives.”

An hour later, as they lay in each other’s embrace in bed, Carol felt melancholy settle in her belly. “Did you ever think we’d have this again? That we’d get this far?

He peered at her though his fringe. “Takin’ it a day at a time.”

“I thought we’d all be dead by now.”

“Out there on the road, nothin’ to do but take it a day at a time. That’s how you survive. In here, we get settled and you can’t help but think about the past and the future. That ain’t always a good thing.”

“No, it’s isn’t.” She shook her head. “What if we lose this place? Like we lost the farm, the prison.”

“Hey,” he said, tucking his hand under her chin and nudging her to look up at him, “If it happens, it happens. We survived. We’ll survive again. Long as I got you, ain’t nothin’ gonna get me.” He pressed a kiss to the corner of her lips. “One day at at time, okay?”

She nodded. “I’m trying.”

She let a few seconds pass before a thought came to her and she turned to rifle under the bed. “Hey, I didn’t give you your Christmas present yet. Merry Christmas, Daryl,” she said, depositing the brand new crossbow in his hands.

He whistled. “This is a beaut. Where’d you find it?”

“Never you mind.”

“Got you somethin’ too,” he said, turning to put the crossbow down and rummaging in the drawer next to him. He produced a small box and handed it to her.

With a smile, she opened it, her eyes lighting up when she saw what was inside. Her fingers brushed the ruby pendant. “It’s beautiful.”  

“Thought of you when I saw it. Ain’t much.”

“I don’t want much,” she said, placing her hand on his chest. “I have you.”

His face reddened. “I ain’t much to look at.”

She caressed his chest, strong and firm under her touch. “I beg to differ.”

Daryl hugged her tighter, pressing his lips to her forehead, and she nestled into his arms. Carol felt the melancholy evaporate, and drifted off into sleep.

_FIN_

 

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading! Feedback is love.


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